And Birthday Cake!
by shywr1ter
Summary: An annual tradition, the Logan Cale birthday fic, in good old S1 M/l style.  Logan celebrates his birthday, with Max helping in more ways than she knows!


Disclaimer: Characters courtesy of Dark Angel; no profits made.

A/N: A very quickly written Logan Cale birthday fic – tradition means a birthday story for Logan and it's still 11/11/ in his hometown, Seattle. If you'll forgive the glitches and probable gaps in logic, I promise to get back here in the next few days as work allows to clean up, but I just hated to let his birthday go by without due notice. Happy birthday, Loogie!

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

...And Birthday Cake!

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

I.

Logan gave the counter a last swipe and shoved back to survey the kitchen – clean, shiny, no evidence of all the chopping and mixing and sloshing he'd done to build the meal now underway. Salad and even appetizers in the fridge, a remarkable beef bourguignon now bubbling in the oven and a pre-Pulse deep burgundy breathing in his grandmother's crystal carafe ... and he smiled a deep smile of satisfaction.

November 11. His birthday. His birthday, and although he was running on caffeine and his last bit of energy, it was his birthday and he hadn't been this happy about it for years.

He'd wrapped up a hack about four hours ago that had taken weeks in development and led him to pull an all night research session to put the final parts together so he'd be able to broadcast today. He'd shopped for ingredients both before and after his informant brought the photos he'd screen with his text, and he put together a birthday dinner that might be the best dinner he'd ever managed.

_For Max._

He grinned again at the thought of her enthusiasm and excitement as his birthday neared, doubtless because she didn't have one of her own. Ever since she'd brought him the grapefruit and she jokingly called it an early birthday present, she'd mentioned it more and more often, and when it occurred to her that birthday cake would be involved she was on a mission to find him a special cake for his birthday. In recent weeks she began teasing that she'd found the perfect baker for his cake and she was almost bubbling for the past couple days about the great cake she'd be bringing him.

He chuckled as he pushed off toward his computer room. He was pleased that she was finding a way to experience a bit of the anticipation of an upcoming birthday, even if it wasn't her own, but as she counted the days, Logan found that he was actually starting to look forward to it too – something that hadn't happened since his parents died. And that was all Max's doing.

He pulled together the few remaining documents littering his computer table from his hack and fed them into the shredder, mentally cleaning up his computer materials and files the same way he'd just cleaned his kitchen. Glancing at the clock, he reflected that he'd gotten everything ready and in shape with almost an hour to spare before Max was to arrive. He'd showered not long ago and pulled on his favorite cargoes and Max's favorite (he thought) sweater. There really wasn't too much he could get started in his new EO project before Max would be here. Glancing at the clock again and feeling exhaustion pulling at his limbs, he thought about how much good a thirty minute nap might do.

Even as he neared the couch he wondered if he should just keep working; he didn't want to oversleep his dinner or be groggy when Max arrived. Even so, the couch's siren song called and there wasn't even a moment's hesitation before he was stretching out along his couch, moaning a little, appreciatively, as he sank against the cushions...

II.

He was awakened by a sharp, insistent knocking and he sat up suddenly, looking at his watch to find he'd slept much longer than he'd wanted. _Damn!_ he breathed as he got up quickly and strode through the hall to the front door. It was nearly seven o'clock, so it was probably was Max, but he couldn't remember her _ever_ knocking, and certainly she hadn't recently – _was_ it her? The last thing he needed for his perfect birthday dinner was someone else showing up uninvited, he frowned...

He peered through the peephole and saw not Max, but ... but what? Some – package? A crate? Something large and boxy, maybe, something more than four feet tall and just as wide.

He stepped back and grimaced to himself, wondering how this could be anything but bad news. Hoping for the best, he pulled the door open ...

And suddenly his hall was filled with a tinny, garish sound as a recorded version of "Happy Birthday" started playing, low and suggestive, sounding like it would be more at home in a strip bar than in his quiet penthouse. The music would normally have registered even more deeply and he would been off and running with all kinds of speculation at its sudden appearance, if it hadn't been for that large, boxy form that had been right outside his door, now squarely in front of him. But ... boxy? Now that he looked it wasn't boxy at all, but rounded ... like an old fashioned hatbox. Like _stacked_ hatboxes – hatboxes made out of papier mache...

Hatboxes – or a cake ...

_A cake?_

... a _big _... multi-tiered ... four foot seven inch papier mache wedding cake ...

A big, multi-tiered, four foot seven inch papier mache wedding cake with a small, top layer that suddenly flipped back with a flourish as Max – his stunning, amazing warrior – burst out of the cake wearing the scantiest of bikinis, beaming and bouncing, arms thrown up wide and smiling widely for him.

"Surprise!" She squealed.

His jaw actually fell open.

"Happy birthday Logan!" she gushed, her voice much more breathy than he'd ever heard her before. "It's time for birthday cake!" She let her arms swoop around again in celebration and confetti filled the air. As he stared he suddenly became aware that Max was wearing, along with her ultra-modern teeny weeny bikini, a pair of long, fuzzy bunny ears right out of Hef's 1950's magazines, and was brandishing a huge, white cotton tail in her hand. "C'mon, Logan," she gushed, turning around half way to wiggle her dazzling derriere his way as she looked over her shoulder to wave the tail in his face. "C'mon! Let's play pin the tail on the Bunny..."

"Max!" he finally blurted, completely undone... "Max – "

III.

"What?" he heard.

He blinked – and blinked up at the smiling face of Max – Max, fully clothed, standing beside the couch and looking down at him. "Bad dream?" she asked, with a twist to her smile. "And before you say 'yes,' you'd better decide how to explain _I_ was in a bad dream." She plopped down unceremoniously on the coffee table beside him, her eyes twinkling in fun.

"No, I ... but you..." he stammered, still overwhelmed with Max's luscious ass wiggling for him that he scrambled a little to regroup. He went to sit up, swallowing the swift, bittersweet memory that in his dream he'd been up and across the room, on his feet, in only a second, but pressed up to sit. "I'm sorry, Max ... I ... I didn't plan to sleep so long."

"Up all night for the hack again, huh?" she asked, her eyes surprisingly sympathetic. At his sheepish nod, she added, "it was a great hack this time, Logan. I was at Jam Pony when it came on and everyone in the place was right with you on everything. You're going help a lot of people with that one and put a lot of those bank scams out of business."

He watched her, still getting his bearings, but at her words he smiled shakily and murmured his thanks, hating to have to give up those mental images of attentive, Bunny Max offering her "tail" for sport. He sighed, still a little amazed at the image...

"Hey – you alright?" she asked.

He blinked again and saw the warm, chocolate eyes looking at him with gentle concern, and he came back to earth. "Yeah, Max ... sorry," his full, sincere grin slowly finding its way back.

"So – wanna see the cake?" she asked, the excitement of the past weeks bubbling again, now lifting a white box from beside her on the coffee table and dangling it a bit by the string wrapped around it.

"Sure." His smile was more relaxed and genuine now. No matter what it looked or tasted like, he would show Max how much he liked it. It wouldn't be hard if he just thought how much he appreciated having her there – with or without a cake. He watched her, chuckling a little, as she made short work of the string.

"Look..." her own smile was wide as Max pulled a small but dazzling, decorated cake from the pristine white box, and Logan's own smile widened in honest surprise.

"Wow, Max – it's beautiful," his eyes fell on the _Happy Birthday, Logan_ written on across the top in blue icing, glittering sprinkles of sugar making the icing's designs dance. At her pleased nod in agreement, he offered. "Do you want to try a piece now?"

"Well, I _would_, except your dinner smells pretty amazing – maybe do things right and save it for dessert?"

He nodded. "Okay. How 'bout I get our dinner now?"

She nodded and stood aside, out of the way so he could transfer back to his chair, again admiring the beautiful cake. When she spoke again her voice was soft. "Logan – thank you for letting me share your birthday..."

He looked up to see the wistful expression as she smiled softly for him, and realized she really did feel as if he'd had to give something up so she could be a part of the celebration. He shook his head. "You made it the best birthday I've had in a long time, Max. It was good to have this dinner and your cake to look forward to."

"Really?" Her eyes lightened in pleasure.

He nodded. "Really."

Her beam lit a fire in his heart. "Good." She paused only another moment, then asked, "So what are we waiting for?" she teased. As he nodded for her to go ahead of him, she bounced her way toward the kitchen, Logan trailing behind, his thoughts full of the evening to some, the special cake she'd found for him ... and an imaginary big, white, fluffy bunny tail on that amazingly perfect derriere leading him into the kitchen...

_**Happy Birthday Logan Cale!**_


End file.
